For Gnomeregon
by Buddy Williams
Summary: While the third war raged across Azeroth, another war boiled beneath its surface. A war just as deadly, and just as horrifying.
1. Grindgear Bridge

**Author's Note**: Because Gnomes aren't taken seriously enough. They lost everything they've ever known in the fall of Gnomeregon. Sure, they make great light-hearted and whimsical characters, but they can also be devestatingly serious.

**Disclaimer: **Blizzard has all rights to Warcraft lore, this is just my cheap embezzlement of it.

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21:00

09.17.3456

Cog Alley Bunker

A low buzzing filled the dimly lit room, evidence that the single overhead light was in need of a change. Papers rustled, someone coughed. A lighter was flicked open, then shut, open, then shut. The flame inked on and off, illuminating tense, weary faces. With a muted sizzle, the overhead light spluttered out. A heavy darkness permeated the room. Someone cursed. Seconds later, backup generators hummed to life. Harsh light filled the room.

Renzlowe Wrenchcog, acting lieutenant of squad 51, looked down at the orders before him. Looking up, he gazed evenly at what remained of Sarge's –no, his- unit. A dozen G.I.'s out of a unit that was supposed to be twice that number. Peachy. Renzlowe cleared his throat, "Alright, boys and girls, I got orders from the brass right here."

Flipping open the folder in front of him, Renzlowe passed around several copies of the mission brief. The reactions on the faces around him were not encouraging. Renzlowe continued on anyway, "You all know what's happening. We're losing ground in this war. Troggs got us outnumbered. Someone's gotta slow 'em down, or they'll overrun the city in a few weeks. That's where we come in."

Snapping the folder shut, Renzlowe turned to a large map behind him. On the map was a zone-by-zone layout of Gnomeregon. He pointed at the junction of two large zones near the outskirts of the city.

"Grindgear Bridge. Spans a natural chasm that runs through the city. It's two-hundred tons of iron and steel, built rivet by rivet over half a decade, and it's the only way to get from the Sublevels to Wrench Row. It's one of Gnomeregon's iconic structures. We're gunna blow it up," Renzlowe turned back to face his squad, "Any questions?"

Several seconds of heavy silence passed. Finally, someone raised a hand. Renzlowe nodded, "Yeah, Sherri?"

The gnome in question nervously twirled a finger through her auburn hair, "Sir… what's the point of blowing the bridge? I mean, the Troggs will still get by…"

Renzlowe half agreed with her, "Orders say that if the bridge gets blown, it'll slow the trogg advance by 87%. The Sublevels are where the Troggs are all coming up from, and without the bridge to cross, they'll have to get pretty damn improvisational."

"Sounds like a load of bolts to me."

Renzlowe shifted his gaze to rest on the stocky gnome who had interjected. The gnome wiped his nose and continued, "Troggs have already crossed the bridge; the whole zone's hot. How are we supposed to even get to the bridge?"

Renzlowe scowled, "We're gunna solve that problem the same we we've solved every other problem. With gun. And if that doesn't work, we'll use more gun. Answer your question, Tork?"

Tork grumbled, "Yeah, well, we don't even have a demognome. How are we gunna blow a bridge that big without a demognome?"

Renzlowe glanced down at his gyromatic chronatom, "Actually, our demognome should be arriving any minute."

At just that moment, the door to the room slammed open. The pungent smell of burning cigars and blasting powder wafted inside. A haggard gnome with a scowl that seemed surgically attached to his face stomped into the room and cast an unsatisfied glare over the unit. He took a deep drag from his cigar before barking, "So, orders say that a washed up buncha wussies need a good demognome to blow a bridge. Are you that washed up buncha wussies?"

Renzlowe crossed his arms, "We're squad 51, and we're going to blow Grindgear Bridge sky-high. You a good demognome?"

The gnome's already impressive scowl darkened further, "Am I a good demognome?" he spat, "What the fel kinda question is that!? A' course I'm a good demognome! I'm still alive! One mischarged igniter, one stray pinch of potassium chloride, one errant twitch, and BOOM!" He slammed a fist into the table, scattering papers to the floor, "No more demognome!"

Taking another pull from his cigar, the gnome stormed up to Renzlowe, "M'name's Neblin, and I'll blow yer bridge to kingdom come," he snarled, blowing a cloud of smoke at Renzlowe's face.

Trying not to cough, Renzlowe waved the smoke away, "I'm Renzlowe. I'm your new commander. Don't blow smoke in my face." Stepping around Neblin, Renzlowe addressed his unit, "Alright, we're all set. Grab your weapons, suit up, and get to the transport trolleys. We gotta be at that bridge and ready to rumble five minutes ago. Now move!" The clicking of rifles being cocked and body armor being donned and tightened was his response.

22:19

09.17. 3456

Wrench Row

The rumbling of the monorail provided a sobering backdrop to the scene inside one of its cars. G.I.'s disassembled and then reassembled their rifles, checking scope alignment, oiling repeaters, stocking up on spare clips of ammunition. Vibroblades were unsheathed, then re-sheathed. Through it all, the acrid stench of cigar smoke was ever present, hanging like a shroud throughout the car. Tork looked over at Neblin, who sat next to him, arm around a large canister labeled, "NEVER TOUCH."

Tork grunted, "Hey, you really think that thing'll be enough to blow Grindgear Bridge?"

Neblin's only response was to pull out his cigar, throw back his head, and cackle loudly.

Tork grumbled and went back to inspecting his gun, "Guess that's a yes."

Clearing his throat, Renzlowe stood up, "Alright, if we do this right, it'll fast, clean, and over before we know it. I want battle-tinkerers in back, make sure the sentry turrets are armed and ready to be deployed, you got me?"

Geb and Gizmo, the two battle-tinkerers in question, nodded hurriedly, hoisting the undeployed turrets onto their backs.

"Good," Renzlowe continued, "As always, I want a line of blade-users up front and the marksmen in back. Form up around the turrets and keep up a spray of cover fire so Neblin here can do his job. Understood?"

"Sir, yes sir!"

Renzlowe nodded, "Alright, prepare for arrival."

With a hiss of brakes and a rush of steam, the monorail ground to a halt at the outskirts of Wrench Row. The squad formed up at the door. The only sound to be heard was shallow, nervous breathing. Renzlowe raised a hand. The squad tensed. He lowered his hand. With a muted whoosh, the car doors slid open and the squad exploded out into the city. Hitting the ground running, Renzlowe sprinted low towards an alley, his squad behind him. Their lightweight plasti-armor plating shifted and rustled as the G.I.'s rushed towards the bridge. Reaching a corner in the alley, Renzlowe immediately dropped into a defensive position, gun raised and ready. The squad formed up behind him, ducking to a knee or sliding behind an outcropping.

Renzlowe raised a hand, pointing at his eyes with two fingers, and then making a fist. Geb nodded and detached a small metallic sphere from his belt. Pressing a button, he tossed the sphere on the ground, where four small legs and a camera sprang out from within. Pulling out a small remote, Geb guided the camera-bot around the corner and towards the bridge, his eyes trained intensely on the view screen, while the rest of the squad trained their eyes on him. After a slight pause, he raised three fingers. Renzlowe thought quickly. Three Troggs weren't exactly a threat, but if they screeched, and the bastards _always_ screeched, they'd bring down a whole horde of their brethren on the squad. They had to be taken out quickly.

He raised his left hand, holding up three fingers. Quickly he touched each finger to his head, and then pointed them forward. Sherri and two other gnomes rushed forward, hugging the corner of the wall. Three shots, three kills. Aim for the back left side of the head; it controls vocal processes. A second passed like an eternity. Simultaneously, the three gnomes whirled around the corner, each dropping to a knee and aiming swiftly. Three silenced shots rang out at once. The muted thump of three Troggs hitting the ground followed. Renzlowe held up all four fingers and motioned the squad forward. Rounding the corner, the unit rushed towards the end of the alley, Grindgear Bridge within sight.

Without warning, a Trogg crossed in front of the alley, facing the squad head on. Everyone jerked up their guns, but the volley of slugs that tore into the Trogg was only fast enough to cut its deafening screech short, not preempt it. Renzlowe held up a fist. The squad halted, listening intently over their own tense breath and pounding hearts. Suddenly, answering screeches echoed throughout the zone, to the west, to the east, behind them, all around them. With a muttered curse, Renzlowe took off at a sprint, motioning the squad to follow close behind. They tore through the alley; G.I.'s whirling around to pick off Troggs that had begun to emerge from abandoned buildings and sewers.

"Get to the bridge! Go! Go! Go!" Renzlowe screamed, all pretense of stealth lost. The squad raced across the street, the howls and screeches of the Troggs growing louder and closer. Renzlowe yelled again, above the din, "Take positions! Cut down the Troggs behind us! We're gunna need an escape path!"

Whirling around, G.I.'s raised their weapons, sending sprays of gunfire into the gathering horde of Troggs. Dozens of Troggs fell dead, but more advanced, bounding over the fallen bodies and loping towards the bridge. Pausing to lob a thermo-detonator grenade into an approaching pack of Troggs, Renzlowe yelled back at Geb and Gizmo, "The turrets! Set up the damn turrets!" The two nodded hurriedly, and shouldered their weapons to begin deploying the sentry turrets. Looking desperately around for Neblin, Renzlowe found him unloading a torrent of bullets into the swarm of Troggs, a crazed grin on his face. "What the fel are you doing!?" Renzlowe screamed, "Set up the bomb!"

Neblin nodded reluctantly, backing up towards the middle of the bridge while still firing; only turning around to carry the bomb when he had run out of ammunition. Growling, Renzlowe turned back to face the oncoming waves of Troggs, eyes widening when he realized just how close they had advanced to the bridge. "Vibro-swords at the ready! Form a line!" Several G.I's abandoned their guns, their vibro-swords unsheathing with a whine that quickly rose in pitch until it was inaudible. Jerking up his own vibro-sword and electro-buckler, Renzlowe braced himself against the inevitable impact. The Troggs smashed into the gnomish line like a truck. For all the G.I's pushed back, the Troggs surged forward. Marksmen behind the line butchered dozens of them in a hail of gunfire, but more took their places, forcing the gnomish line backwards up the bridge. Glancing down at the voltometer on his buckler, Renzlowe yelled out to the rest of the line, "Just a few seconds more… they're almost done charging!" The line slid back a few more inches; then the electro-bucklers finished spinning up.

Ten thousand volts tore through the swarm of Troggs, sending the first several ranks to the ground in charred lumps and several ranks behind them jolting backwards. Pressing their advantage, the gnomes charged, vibro-swords at the ready. They met the Troggs head on, slashing deep as bullets whizzed overhead. Renzlowe ducked a clumsy swing, then removed the Trogg's arm from its body, vibrosword slicing cleanly through sinew and bone. Bashing the Trogg across the face with his shield, he whirled around, cleaving two Troggs across the stomach, spilling their entrails to the floor. A wave of stench plowed into his senses, and the two Troggs lurched forward, still desperate to crush and kill. Jumping back a step, Renzlowe dodged their dying grabs and smoothly decapitated one, smashing it with his shield to send its body toppling against its companion. Raising his eyes, from the slaughter, Renzlowe found himself looking up at a massive giant of a Trogg. The beast roared incoherently, spittle flying from its gaping maw. As Renzlowe dropped into a defensive stance, a loud blast sounded behind him. Simultaneously, the Trogg's head literally blew apart, splattering Renzlowe with gore as the body crashed to the ground. Risking a glance over his shoulder, Renzlowe saw Geb and Gizmo with their rifles once more, the sentry turrets deployed and operational. With loud blasts, the turrets fired hyperkinetic heat-seeking slugs into the fray, focusing on the largest heat-signatures.

Looking back to the fray, Renzlowe glanced out over the swarm of Troggs. More seemed to come from every direction to join the fight, the horde seemed to never end. "Fall back!" Renzlowe roared over the gunfire and screaming. Slowly, the gnomish line gave ground, forced backwards by the endless waves of Troggs. Ducking and slashing, severing and skewering, Renzlowe backed up step by step, buying that bastard Neblin time to set up the charge. Glancing quickly over his shoulder to see how close the demognome was to being complete, Renzlowe left himself open for a fraction of a second. It was a fraction of a second too much. A powerful blow to the head sent him spinning through the air, the world tumbling around him. He hit the bridge hard, blood rushing in his ears.

Raising his eyes, he saw his squad fighting a losing battle. One of the sentry turrets had been torn down and smashed, the second one was already under attack. Geb was being hoisted into the air by a screaming Trogg. With a heave of muscle, the beast hurled the gnome over the edge of the bridge. He seemed to hang suspended in midair for the briefest of seconds, mouth open in a wordless scream. Then, he fell away into the darkness, fading forever from view. Tork was surrounded by a gang of Troggs, shooting wildly. They grabbed him, by the arms, by the shoulders, by the feet, still shooting. They pulled, screaming and roaring. Tork's eyes widened as he screamed back, still shooting. With freakish strength, the Troggs continued to pull, until Tork ripped apart, organs spilling onto the ground, still screaming, still shooting. Then the Troggs fell upon him, and Renzlowe saw him no more. From what seemed like impossibly far away, a gruff voice called his name, and someone shook his shoulder. The blasting sound of his own heartbeat began to fade from his ears, replaced by the noise of battle and death.

"Renzlowe!" The voice at his ear and the hand on his shoulder again. Renzlowe looked over to see Neblin at his side, screaming his name. "Renzlowe! The charge is set! We got fifteen seconds till the bridge goes up in smoke!"

Renzlowe looked towards the other side of the bridge. The irony of the situation didn't escape his notice. They would have to retreat to the very side of the bridge they were trying to cut off from the rest of the city. Suddenly, movement from the Sublevel side of the bridge caught his attention. A Trogg raced across the street, heading towards the bridge. It was followed by another. And another. And dozens more. The horde that they had been sent there to slow down had finally shown up. Renzlowe looked back and forth at the two swarms of Troggs, each running up the bridge. He and his squad were surrounded. There was nowhere to go.

Renzlowe looked out over the chasm: nowhere to go but down. "G.I.'s! Fall back to me! Ziplines at the ready!" Several gnomes broke and ran, sprinting back towards him. Some were to slow, dragged down and beaten to bloody smears by the horde of howling Troggs. Gathering at the edge of the bridge, the gnomes fired their ziplines into the rails, latching themselves firmly against the bridge. "On my mark, go over the top!" Renzlowe screamed. Turning to Neblin, he asked, "How much time!?"

"Eight seconds!"

"Get ready!"

The Troggs raced ever closer, engulfing both sides of the bridge.

"Five seconds!"

The Troggs were close enough to smell.

"Two seconds!"

"Now now now!"

The gnomes vaulted over the edge of the bridge, plunging down into the inky black chasm, ziplines whirring. Above them, Troggs roared in outrage, desperately reaching for their lost prey. Neblin cackled loudly as he plummeted with them, "One!"

A deafening explosion cut short the roars from above. Looking up, Renzlowe saw a massive ball of fire consume half the bridge. The iron struts shrieked and groaned, buckling under the impact. Burning debris and massive hunks of steel fell down around them. Troggs, both alive and dead, in pieces and whole, rained down from the ruined bridge. The bridge had broken into two halves, the half they were tethered to lurching dangerously, sending the dangling gnomes jerking back and forth. Renzlowe looked to the gnome hanging next to him. Suddenly a red-hot slab of iron fell from above, and in a flash, the gnome's line was severed, the gnome himself plummeting into the blackness. Groaning loudly, the bridge lurched and buckled again, jerking the gnomes downward towards the abyss. With a loud snap, a zipline went slack, and Neblin plunged cackling downward. Looking around desperately, Renzlowe's gaze fell on Sherri, still alive, still clinging to her zipline. Following the zipline up, it was apparent that it would break any second. With a desperate heave, Renzlowe jerked himself towards her, holding out a hand. At that moment, her line snapped.

She hung, suspended in space, her eyes wide and terrified. Renzlowe's line swung him closer, reaching desperately for her outstretched hand. With a sudden jerk, his hand caught hers. Renzlowe looked around desperately, searching for a means of escape as the bridge began to fall lower and lower. The last thing he saw was the chasm wall rushing towards him. Then everything went black.

01:09

09.18.3456

Perpetual Chasm

The tiny fire before him crackled and glowed, spreading meager warmth from his hands to the rest of his body. He shifted briefly, sending a small shower of pebbles clattering off the edge of the small ledge he sat on and into the abyss below. Settling down, he cast a cautious glance at Sherri, who sat staring at the fire, her back against the chasm wall.

"Sherri?" He ventured, "You okay?"

She didn't answer for a long time. When she did, it was in the softest of whispers, "They're all dead, aren't they?"

Renzlowe let out a breath, "… Yeah. They're dead."

She gave the barest of nods, "… Oh."

The two faded into silence once more. Soon, however, Renzlowe began realizing the small noises he was hearing weren't coming from the fire. Looking over at Sherri once more, he saw that she had curled up, and was crying, sobbing into her hands.

"Sherri? Hey, don't cry, we're okay," He offered, scooting a bit closer.

"I'm not okay!" She screamed back at him, her face stained with tears and eyes red from grief, "They're dead! They're all dead! I should be dead! We were so close, why aren't we dead!? Geb got thrown off a cliffandTorkgotgotohmygodTorkhegottornapartan-" she hiccupped, "And now we're all alone andwe'reonacliffand we'vegotnofoodandwe-"

Renzlowe cut her off with a sharp smack to the side of the head. She stared at him in confusion and fear. "We're not alone," he breathed, "We took out the bridge. Without the reinforcements from the Sublevel, the Troggs on this side are vulnerable. The brass'll send in napalm squads to clear 'em out in two days tops. We've both got flares in our packs, when they come, we can signal them. We'll get out of this, okay?" He put a hand on her shoulder, trying to sound more convinced than he felt; trying to sound less shaken than he was.

Sherri nodded with a strangled sob, burying her head in his shoulder. Swallowing hard, Renzlowe patted her on the back. "'Eeeeyyy," he sighed, "You can't let this get to you, okay? Sometimes your own brain can kill you just as good as a Trogg." He looked down at the flickering fire next to them, Sherri's sobs mixing with the crackling of the tinder, "You gotta keep your head. Just chill. Be cool, kid. Be cool."

-End.


	2. Power Station

09.21.3456

08:46

Sprocket Sector

The rumble of twin combusti-drive engines permeated the deck. It was everywhere, vibrating the walls, the benches, and the floor. It was something felt, rather than heard, and Renzlowe felt it deep in his chest. Glancing back and forth quickly, he eyed the rest of the gnomes crammed into the troop transport trolley; the rest of his new squad.

To the left, a gnome was scribbling incessantly into a small book, pausing only briefly to turn to a new page. Next to him, another G.I. was methodically checking and rechecking her clip-count, loading the bullets into place and locking the clips to her belt. Beside her, another gnome sat, helmet in his hands, shaking like a loose piston. Renzlowe turned to stare ahead. Another gnome sat before him, cleaning a small vibro-knife. Abruptly, he raised his gaze from the knife, his eyes locking with Renzlowe's. The sound of another gnome clearing his voice and beginning to speak broke the connection.

"You should have already read the briefs, so I'm going to skip the formalities."

It was Captain Torvolt.

"Here's what we know: the power station in this sector powered down suddenly about two days ago. That power station feeds energy to several of our vitally important assets. They're running on backup power for now, but that won't hold out forever. Civilian forces were sent in to get the station up and running once again. They never reported back."

The shaking gnome gulped audibly. Captain Torvolt continued anyway, "We've been provided with schematics of the power station and the tools needed to start it up once again. We get in, we turn on the lights, we get out. Any resistance should be met with lethal force. Do you understand?"

"Sir, yes sir!" Renzlowe chorused with the rest of the squad.

The roar of engines once again became the only sound within the car. Moments passed. The quivering gnome uncertainly raised a hand. The Captain turned and nodded, "This isn't a classroom, Shakes, what do you want?"

Shakes nodded and wetted his lips, "Erm, sir, what… I mean, do we know what happened to the, uh, civilians?"

"If Intel knows anything, they didn't tell us," Captain replied.

"Which means they were probably killed horribly."

Renzlowe looked over at the heavyset gnome who had spoken up.

Captain Torvolt glared at the gnome as well, "Did I ask for your opinion, Lug?"

Lug grunted, "No, sir."

Torvolt nodded, "Then don't provide it."

Silence fell once more as the car sped towards its destination.

09.21.3456

09.07

Tru-Volt Power Station

The rumbling of engines gradually began to fade. Renzlowe could feel the car grinding to a halt, inertia pressing against him like a weight. Captain Torvolt stood, donning his helm, "Move fast. If we have to split up, stay in groups of three. And if we have to shoot, try not to shoot the equipment. This place has to turn on when we press the button."

The squad stood, donning body armor, loading in fresh clips, checking station maps. Renzlowe found himself next to the gnome who had been checking her clips, and the gnome who he'd locked eyes with. Renzlowe cleared his throat, "'Ey. Cap'n said we should stick in groups of three. You guys up for it?"

The other gnome tossed her head, flipping her ebony braid over her shoulder, "Sure. I'm Tinni, and this is Maurice."

Maurice nodded, "It was nice knowing you."

Tinni shook her head, "Cheery guy, isn't he?"

Before Renzlowe could answer, the door of the transport car clanged open, revealing the pitch black city beyond. In one motion, the squad surged forward, heading toward the power station gates. Swift footfalls and light breathing were the only sounds to be heard as the troops raced forward in the darkness. The squad reached the gates in seconds, the chain link fence rattling as G.I.'s braced themselves against it, weapons ready.

Captain Torvolt raised a hand, "Night-Sight on."

Electronic whining briefly filled the air as a dozen night-vision visors flipped down and on. Renzlowe's world shifted from a pitch-dark cave to an eerie reflection of Gnomeregon, illuminated in shades of green. Looking to his left, he saw the Captain hold his hand aloft for a brief second before dropping it. Lug and another gnome immediately kicked open the gates. A rusty screech filled the air as the gates swung open and the squad rushed through.

Sprinting toward the main compound, Renzlowe scanned the surroundings. No movement, no strange noises. The squad covered the distance in seconds, forming up around the main entrance. The door hung ajar, squeaking silently as a light breeze pushed it back and forth. Renzlowe heard his heart pounding in his ears. It was silent. Too damn silent. With a wave of his hand, the Captain motioned the squad into the power station.

Moving at a brisk run, the troops raced down the entry hall. Renzlowe looked down, noticing several colored lines on the floor. From what he remembered of the schematics, the lines led to different important areas of the station. Apparently Captain remembered too, as he pointed to an orange line, and then veered around a corner to follow it. Renzlowe and the rest of the squad followed, footsteps echoing down the bare halls. They followed the line left, then right, then left again, zigzagging through a labyrinth of corridors and service hallways.

Without warning, the Captain ground to a halt in front of a reinforced steel door. Pointing to the door, he made a fist. Two gnomes ran up from the back of the formation and began attaching seaforium to the door. With a satisfied nod, the two stepped back several paces; the rest of the squad ducking against the wall.

"Fire in the hole."

With a small bang, the door blew open. Almost immediately, the troops burst into the room, weapons raised and ready. Renzlowe's eyes darted to and fro, but there was nothing in the room but a large switchboard. Slightly disappointed, he darted to a tactical position and aimed his weapon at the door like the rest of the squad. Two gnomes darted beside the door and took up sentry positions.

While the troops secured the room, the Captain strode toward the switchboard, shouldering his rifle, "This is the main grid power up system," he said in low tones, "We turn this on and the main generators will start accumulating charge."

Eyeing the grid, he opened a large panel and began flipping several small switches. Small lights flashed on and off across the display. Renzlowe listened intently for any suspicious noises. All he heard was the sound of buttons, switches, and hushed breathing. After a few moments of work, the Captain stepped back briefly to inspect the grid. Nodding to himself, he grasped a large lever and forced it downward with a grunt. The switchboard began to emit an electric hum.

"That did it," Captain said, "The main generators are ge-"

At that moment, Renzlowe's night-sight display gave out. The green world around him distorted and fizzed, then blinked off into utter darkness. Judging by the muffled cursing around him, everyone else's night-sight had glitched as well.

Captain's voice pierced through the confusion, "Backup lights on."

Renzlowe reached to his rifle and flipped on the auxiliary light. A pale, luminous beam flashed out of the end of his gun, bathing a small circle of light onto the floor. Reaching up, he flicked on the small light attached to his helmet as well. Quickly, other beams of light flared up across the room and began swinging back and forth; the rest of the squad switching to backup light.

"Nobody say a word," Captain grunted, "Odds are the startup procedure creates electromagnetic waves. Big ones. That's probably what crashed night-sight. We'll make do without it."

Someone grumbled. Renzlowe swung his head to the source, illuminating Lug, who gave him a dirty look. Averting his gaze, Renzlowe looked to the door once more, ensuring it was secure. Nodding to himself when he saw there was no threat; he began to look away, only to do a double-take, the icy talons of shock briefly closing around his chest. The two sentries were gone.

"Sir! The two sentries posted at the door are gone!"

Dozens of lights immediately swiveled to focus on the empty doorway.

"All units hold," the Captain barked, striding forward. Raising his weapon, he signaled for three troops to form up on him. Pausing at the door, the G.I.'s cocked their weapons. Without warning, the four dashed into the hall, weapons raised. No shots were fired. Lowering his gun, the Captain cursed vehemently. The rest of the squad stepped out into the hall. The corridor was empty in the direction they had come. Renzlowe looked in the other direction, his headlamp illuminating a fraction of the inky black hall. Others turned as well, lighting more of the hall. One shaking beam paused on a small puddle of blood. More lights immediately focused on the area, revealing two streaks of blood leading down the hall. The streaks ended at a ventilation shaft with a torn open grate. Nobody spoke.

"Like I said, groups of three." Captain muttered, before jogging back down the hall.

The squad followed in silence.

Renzlowe gripped his rifle tightly, his breathing tense, focusing his targeting light on any darkened corner, any open door. From what he remembered of the schematics, after the main warm-up sequence was started, they had to disable the safeties: the safeties which were located on the other side of the power station.

The troops rounded a corner and quickly came to a halt. The hallway dead-ended. Several elevator doors surrounded them. Captain nodded, "Our objective is two floors down and another thousand feet west. Backup power should give us enough juice to run these elevators. They're too small for a whole squad. I want two groups, one left, and one right."

Renzlowe followed Maurice and Tinni into the left elevator, crowding in with Captain Torvolt and several other G.I.'s. As the doors began to close, he gazed across the hall at the opposite group, recognizing Lug among them. Before the doors slid shut, Lug shifted his gaze and met Renzlowe's eyes. He scowled. Then the doors closed, and with a slight jerk, the elevator began to descend. Almost as soon as the elevator began to move, soft music began to play in the car. Someone chuckled, high and nervous. Several moments passed. Gradually, the elevator shuddered to a stop. Rifles clicked and body armor rustled as the G.I.'s raised their weapons to face the unopened door. Renzlowe eased his finger onto the trigger. Captain Torvolt moved to push the open door button, its small click clearly audible over the tense breathing of the troops. The doors slid open.

A snarling trogg burst from the darkness beyond into the pale headlamp lights, its mouth open impossibly wide in a deafening bellow. Instantly, gunfire filled the elevator, bullets shredding into the roaring beast. Dozens more troggs leapt from the darkness toward the elevator, snarling and howling. Renzlowe fired instinctively, the rifle rattling in his arms as ammunition raced through the length of the barrel, across the elevator, and deep into the bodies of the twisted creatures. As the last of the troggs toppled to the floor, littered with bullet holes, the firing stopped.

The Captain raised a hand and the squad dashed out of the elevator, rifles raised, headlamps panning the hall, searching for movement. No more troggs appeared. Renzlowe allowed himself a breath of relief before looking across the hall to the other elevator door. It was still shut. Renzlowe's breath of relief died in his chest. Captain Torvolt was already stepping towards the elevator, motioning for the rest of the troops to fall in around him. The G.I.'s raised their weapon once more, pointing them at the still-closed elevator door. Captain Torvolt held up a finger, then pointed at the elevator buttons. Tinni ran forward, ducking against the wall next to the closed door. Torvolt nodded. Tinni pressed a button: the doors slid open.

Blood began to pour from the door almost immediately. Inside the elevator lay several dead or dying troggs, or parts of troggs. A rifle lay abandoned on the floor, still clutched by an arm that no longer had an owner. Bloodstains covered the walls. The maintenance shaft on the ceiling hung open. Renzlowe stared at the carnage. Captain Torvolt was already moving, "Our objective is due west. Move fast." The squad lowered their weapons, racing down the hallway. Renzlowe followed.

Footsteps clanked against the pressed steel floor of the corridor as the G.I.'s sprinted towards the security room. Lights focused on every door, every ventilation shaft, and every corner before shifting to the next darkened spot. Ahead in the distance, a door marked, "Security" was dimly illuminated. Renzlowe doubled his speed. Captain Torvolt drew his vibro-sword, "Don't shoot!" He yelled as they rushed closer, "The equipment has to stay intact!" The rest of the troops drew their vibro-swords as well, the blades' high-pitched whine mixing with their pounding footsteps. Without breaking stride, Torvolt kicked down the door and rushed into the room, the squad at his heels.

Troggs whirled to face them, lunging immediately, hands reaching to grab and crush. The G.I.'s met them head on, stabbing and slashing. Renzlowe ducked under a leaping trogg, thrusting up his blade to impale the beast as it passed overhead. Staggering to his feet, he was grabbed around the wrists by another trogg. The creature roared in his face, mouth open obscenely wide, and spittle flying. Gathering his feet under him, Renzlowe kicked the trogg hard in the gut, but the monster barely flinched. Renzlowe's vision exploded in stars and dots as the creature smashed its rock-hard forehead into his. Blearily he looked up as the trogg threw back its head, unhinging its jaw in anticipation of the meal to come.

That meal never came. The blade of a vibro-sword burst through the trogg's chest, spraying a mist of blood across Renzlowe's face. As the blade withdrew, the creature howled in agony and collapsed to the floor, revealing Tinni standing behind it, blade drawn. Renzlowe blinked slowly. Tinni gave a short nod, and then whirled around, hamstringing another trogg before leaping on top of the fallen creature and stabbing it through the throat. Renzlowe gave his head a quick shake to clear it before returning to the fray.

As the last of the troggs fell to the ground, Captain Torvolt immediately moved to the security display. Without pausing, the squad once again took up tactical positions throughout the room. Renzlowe sheathed his vibro-sword and unshouldered his rifle, taking up sentry position by the door. Two other gnomes followed him. The sound of buttons pressing and keys turning drifted from behind him, but Renzlowe kept his lights and gaze riveted on the hall and his finger tight against the trigger. The noises behind him paused, and he heard the sound of two gnomes moving. Three keys were turned simultaneously.

The Captain's voice rang out, "Alright, securities are off."

Renzlowe kept his eyes on the hallway, a bead of sweat slowly making its way from his temple to his cheek. Behind him, he could hear the rest of the troops begin to move towards the door. He allowed himself to relax a fraction. Suddenly, a bloodcurdling scream filled the room. Jumping back from the doorway, Renzlowe jerked around, training his light on the source. A gnome was halfway dragged into a floor ventilation shaft, his eyes wide with terror. As he slipped further into the shaft, he let loose another piercing scream. With a shock, Renzlowe realized it was Shakes.

Immediately, G.I.'s lunged for his outstretched hands, grabbing tightly. Renzlowe dug in his feet, holding fast to Shakes' left hand, tugging against the troggs in the vents with all his might. Arms wrapped around his waist, helping him pull. "Heave!" Captain Torvolt shouted over Shakes' own screams of terror. As Renzlowe pulled, the screams of terror abruptly shifted pitch, from screams of fear, to screams of pain. Shakes rattled back and forth, eyes wrenched shut, howls of agony bursting from his mouth, "Help me! Please! It hurts! Help me!" Renzlowe pulled as hard as he could, doubling his efforts, digging in his feet. Shakes' screams rose in pitch, getting higher and sharper, more and more desperate. Without warning, the pulling stopped.

The troops fell over backwards, yanking Shakes out of the ventilation shaft. Gasping in relief, Renzlowe looked down at the smaller gnome. His relief quickly vanished. Shakes lay on the ground, his screams fading into low moans. Where his legs and hips had once been, there was now only a tangle of entrails and gushing blood. The troops stared as what was left of Shakes whimpered, his final breaths trailing off into a gurgle.

After an eternity of silence, Captain Torvolt spoke up, "Main control station next. And for Light's sake, watch the damn vents."

Tearing his eyes off of what was left of Shakes; Renzlowe followed the rest of the squad out of the security room. Before rounding a corner in the hall, he spared a glance backwards into the room. Shakes' body was gone.

The squad raced down the halls once more. Renzlowe looked down to the floor and spotted a gold line. Gold line. That led to the main control panel. Following the gold line, the squad sprinted through the corridors. Renzlowe's breath came fast and sharp, adrenaline pumping through his system. His ears strained, listening for sounds above the clatter of armored footsteps. His eyes darted, searching for any movement in the flickering play of lights across the walls. His hand tensed against the rifle.

The troops reached the end of the hall, an elevator before them. There was a pause.

"No elevators." Captain Torvolt grunted. Turning to his side, he motioned towards another door, this one marked, _Stairs_. Raising his gun, the Captain approached the door. Troops formed up behind him, weapons raised. He nodded to Renzlowe. Wordlessly, Renzlowe held his rifle at the ready and moved in front of the door. The sound of rifles being cocked and aimed drifted from behind him. Allowing himself one deep breath, he kicked the door open then dropped to a knee, ready to fire. Nothing happened.

Slowly, Renzlowe lifted himself off his knee, "All clear, sir."

Looking back at the squad, Renzlowe saw the Captain nodding and stepping forward. Tinni and Maurice stood to the side, weapons lowered slightly. There was a flash of movement back down the hallway. Turning swiftly, Renzlowe trained his headlamp back down the hall. The beam of light panned back and forth, revealing a loping horde of troggs racing towards the squad of G.I.'s. When the light hit them, the troggs roared, bounding faster and faster.

"Behind us!" Renzlowe screamed.

"Up the stairs! Move! Move! Move!" Captain roared over the bellowed of the approaching troggs.

The troops burst into the stairwell, racing up the steps as fast as they could. Backing up swiftly, Renzlowe laid a spray of gunfire across the hallway before slamming the stair door shut and following the squad up the stairs. Seconds later, the door was forced open, the howls of troggs echoing throughout the stairwell.

"The room is four floors up! Go go go!" The Captain screamed over the roaring troggs.

Renzlowe sprinted up the flights of steps, taking them three at a time. He passed another gnome, breathing heavily. Casting a glance over his shoulder, he saw the same gnome being dragged backwards down the stairs, screaming loudly. He turned back to look ahead, the scream cut short behind him by a loud snap.

The Captain screamed again over the din, "At the next floor, everyone stop and shoot! Tinkerers, set up explosives on the steps! That's an order!"

In a flash, the G.I.'s cleared the flight of stairs. In one fluid motion, Renzlowe whirled around, took a knee, brought up his rifle, aimed, and fired a round into the screeching mouth of the trogg directly behind him. Beside him, other G.I.'s followed suit, sending a wave of suppressing fire into the pursuing troggs. The first line of beasts contorted in agony, riddled with bullet holes. They collapsed backwards, sending the troggs behind them tumbling down the steps or over the edge. Behind the line of G.I.'s, tinkerers slapped plastic explosives to the stairway supports, arming them quickly. Looking to Captain Torvolt, they nodded quickly.

"Ceasefire! Up the steps! Move it!" Captain screamed.

As quickly as the squad had begun to fire, they stopped, turning again to sprint up the steps. The troggs gave chase, bounding over the bodies of their fallen brethren. Renzlowe counted the seconds. Five seconds passed. An explosion ripped through the stairwell, sending pieces of trogg flying through the air. The stairs shrieked and groaned as their supports were torn out from under them. Troggs tumbled off the shuddering and jerking stairs, shrieking into the darkness. The stairs shuddered again, knocking a few G.I.'s to their backs. Renzlowe whirled around, headlamp shifting across the frightened faces of his comrades before they rolled away and disappeared over the edge. One gnome skidded to a stop right at the edge, holding on for dear life. She looked up, her face illuminated by the glare of his light. It was Tinni.

Renzlowe managed two steps toward her before the stairs heaved once again. She blinked slowly, her hands suddenly without purchase. As if she suddenly realized the situation she was in, she screamed. Her scream vanished with her, fading as she faded, down into the darkness. A hand grabbed Renzlowe by the shoulder and jerked him back up the steps, away from the edge. Reluctantly, he turned away, sprinting up the stairs once more.

In moments, the squad reached the top floor, bursting through the door without the slightest pause. Renzlowe raised his gun, lights illuminating patches of the new hallway as a G.I. slammed the door behind him. A narrow corridor led straight to a room labeled, _Main Control_. Immediately, the troops charged forward, racing heedlessly towards the door. Shouldering his weapon, Renzlowe drew his vibro-sword and flicked it on. Others had already done so, and the rising whine of the vibrating blades quickly rose out of earshot.

The squad crossed the corridor like lightning, smashing against the control room door. Behind them, the door to the stairs rattled violently, the shrieks and howls of troggs echoing through the steel. Swords at the ready, the troops slammed open the door, rushing into the control room. No troggs leaped out to ambush them. Without a second's pause, the Captain slammed the door shut and raced to the control panel. Pulling out a small booklet, he trained his light on its pages while fiddling with the dials and levers.

"Brace the door!" He shouted over his shoulder.

Renzlowe and Maurice rushed to do so, another gnome throwing his weight against the door as well. Renzlowe's heart skipped a beat when he realized they were the only ones left. Immediately following his realization, the door buckled. Roars and screeches pierced the air. Renzlowe strained against the door with all his might, digging his feet into the floor. Inches from his head, a twisted hand burst through the wood, clawing the air. With a yell, Renzlowe stabbed his vibro-sword through the opening. A loud squeal filled the air, the hand writhing in agony before withdrawing.

Behind him, Renzlowe heard the Captain shout, "That's it! Power's on!" No sooner had the words left his mouth, than the room was flooded with light. Renzlowe blinked against the brightness, taking stock of his surroundings. The main control panel was located on a raised platform inside of a massive room. In the middle of the room stood a gigantic Tesla coil, wires branching out from its surface. Surrounding the Tesla coil were dozens of troggs.

As the door buckled and heaved behind him, Renzlowe looked around desperately. Troggs behind them. Troggs below them. There was no way out. Renzlowe's gaze focused on the Tesla coil. There was one way out.

"Captain!" He yelled over the banging door, "You have to overload the generator! The excess power will kill the troggs below! We can jump down and make a break for the service vehicle garage!"

Captain Torvolt's eyes widened a fraction as he contemplated the plan. Finally, he nodded and turned to the control panel. Flipping open a closed circuit, he twisted a knob one hundred and eighty degrees. Almost immediately, the Tesla coil began humming loudly, its surface glowing an electric blue. Showers of sparks flew from the machine, causing the troggs to scatter like roaches. A bolt of excess power split the air with a loud crack, incinerating a group of troggs, leaving their twisted and charred remains in a heap on the floor.

"It's working!" Maurice shouted over the pounding door and humming generator.

More loud cracks filled the air as bolts of electric power decimated the troggs below. However, as more and more troggs died below, the troggs behind the door forced it further and further open. "We can't hold the door much longer, Captain!" Renzlowe screamed as more hands punched their way through the shuddering door.

"You don't need to! Over the edge, all of you!" Captain Torvolt yelled, twisting the knob back to its original position. In a flash, the four gnomes were at the edge of the platform. Quickly latching their ziplines to the rail, they leapt out into space, the doors behind them bursting open as troggs spilled out onto the control platform. Renzlowe righted himself in midair, descending as fast as the zipline control would allow, bracing for impact with the ground.

The gnomes landed hard on the corrugated steel floor, the Tesla coil still humming dangerously. As they stood up, another bolt of power erupted from the coil, vaporizing a trogg that stood just feet away.

"To the service garage! Move it!" Captain screamed, pointing at the large door directly across the room.

The gnomes sprinted across the generator floor, ignoring the troggs, ignoring the generator, ignoring everything but the door in front of them. Renzlowe could feel hum of the generator vibrating through his body. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears, the pounding of his feet against the ground, the sound of his heavy breathing. Ahead of him, the Captain ran forward, just feet from the door.

A loud crack sounded through the air. The world exploded in brilliant white light. Renzlowe blinked his eyes against the raw electrical energy. The bolt of power arced out of the coil, lancing directly into Captain Torvolt. For the briefest instant, he seemed to glow bright as the electricity consuming him. Then the instant passed, and Captain Torvolt literally exploded in a cloud of vapor, a few charred bones falling to the floor. Too late to stop, Renzlowe charged through the red-tinged mist, sprinting mindlessly for the door.

The gnomes smashed into the door, battering it down without breaking stride, bursting into the service garage.

"That one!" Maurice cried out, pointing as a utility vehicle, "Get in and let's get the fuck out of here!"

The gnomes leapt into the large utility truck, Renzlowe and Maurice in back as the other gnome gunned the engine. The truck rumbled forward, slowly at first, gradually picking up speed. Behind them, troggs exploded out of the generator room door, howling and bounding after the fleeing vehicle.

"Faster! Get this hunk of scrap going!" Renzlowe screamed at the other gnome, who hunched his shoulder and floored it.

The truck roared, speeding across the garage. Looking ahead, Renzlowe saw the still-closed garage door quickly filling his field of vision. "Hang on!" the driver shouted, still picking up speed. The truck raced forward, heading directly for the door. Renzlowe grabbed onto the seat and shut his eyes. A deafening slam filled the cabin of the truck, and Renzlowe was jerked roughly out of his seat, slamming against the seat in front of him.

Slowly and painfully, he hauled himself back into his seat, looking over at Maurice who was doing much the same. Glancing behind him, he saw the power station fading into the distance, lights still on and shining brightly. Letting out several shaky breaths, Renzlowe collapsed in his seat. The gnome ahead stared grimly at the road, driving them back towards the drop off zone. To his left, Maurice sat silently, breathing deeply.

Eventually, Maurice's breaths turned into sobs. Renzlowe looked over as the gnome's shoulders shook, his face buried in his hands. Whimpers found their way from between his fingers, "Tinni… why Tinni…" He trailed off, choking and gasping. Renzlowe tried to raise a hand, to comfort him, to say something, anything. Blinking, he realized he couldn't. The will to move, to talk, to do anything had abandoned him. He sat numbly in the seat, staring ahead. Dimly, he heard something rattle below him. He looked down. The rattling was coming from his rifle; the hand he was holding it with was shaking. He dropped the rifle. His hand continued to shake. As the utility truck roared off into the distance, the rumbling of engines filled the cab. It was the kind of rumble felt, not heard, and Renzlowe felt it deep within his chest.

-End.


	3. Tramline 2B

09.30.3456

12:47

Tram Line 2B

Renzlowe shifted his pulse-rifle restlessly, plasti-armor rustling as he fidgeted. Uneasily, he glanced around. The tram tunnel stretched out endlessly before him, vanishing into the darkness. Overhead, the lights flickered on and off, electric static accompanying their cold, white light. Behind him, a transport tram stood silently, parked on the very edge of usable track. Beyond that, rubble littered the floor and the tracks were bent and twisted out of shape. Dimly visible was a pile of boulders and rock blocking the rest of the tunnel. The invading Trogg horde had caused a cave-in, and this tram was a vital supply line for the war effort. It had to be repaired. Around him, the muted clanging and pounding of the civilian tinker corps at work echoed off the tunnel walls. The usual joking banter that floated around construction zones was absent. No one laughed; faces were set to grim, determined lines. A sharp crackling filled the air as the brilliant blue glow of an arc-wielder bathed the side of the tunnel in light. Renzlowe shifted his weapon again.

The army was spread thin. He knew it, his lieutenant knew it, the civilians knew it. He'd been given a grand total of seven hour's rest from the last assignment before being re-assigned to a new regiment. At least he'd lived through the assignment. Glancing around once again, Renzlowe eyed the rest of his unit. The armor and weapons of the G.I.'s to his left and right matched the armor and weapons of his old regiment. The faces didn't. Renzlowe turned his gaze back down the tunnel before that line of thought got too dangerous. Right now, a tinker corps needed guarding. Grief would have to come later.

To his left, another G.I. suddenly spoke up, "Hey mac, how you holdin' up?"

So much for blocking out that line of thought. Renzlowe answered shortly, "Fine."

The other G.I. pressed, not taking the hint, "Well, I'm bored outta my skull. Plenty of big, important battles going on out there. Battles that are turning the tide of this war! And we're stuck here babysitting some tinkers. Gimme some action any day, I say."

Renzlowe had turned to stare incredulously at the other gnome halfway through his speech. He wanted action. He was either very stupid, or very insane. Renzlowe eyed him over; gun held in the wrong position, weak stance, no visible scars or markings, bright eyes. New recruit; very stupid. Grunting, he turned back to the tunnel, "Kid, you don't know nothin' about what you're talkin' about."

The other gnome rolled his eyes, "Yeah, sure, war's hell, blah blah blah. Aren't you Mr. Veteran. You're just playing it down because you're not out there getting any glory either. And my name's Gimbly, not kid."

Renzlowe didn't even turn to look this time, "Talk to me again after seeing your best friend have his guts ripped out by a trogg. And my name's Renzlowe. Not Mr. Veteran."

That shut the kid up.

Unfortunately, it opened the door for other G.I.'s to jump in.

"Don't be too hard on Gimbly."

Renzlowe turned to his right, looking at the heavyset gnome that had spoken. A scar marred his forehead, vanishing into his hairline. The gnome met his gaze, and then continued, "He means good. You were a rookie once too. Hell, so was I. They called me Hot-Head Herb."

Renzlowe didn't respond for several moments. "They used to call me The Renz."

Herb raised a brow, "That's a weird rookie name."

"Before all this."

"… Oh."

Herb shouldered his rifle and looked down the tunnel as well, "I don't think I had a nickname before I got drafted."

Renzlowe shrugged a shoulder, body armor rustling as it rose and fell, "Grew up in the sublevels. Everyone had a nickname in the sublevels."

"I had a nickname! I was G-man!"

Herb chuckled under his breath, the sound grating through the air like a rusty saw, "That's nice, Gimbly."

Renzlowe shook his head, about to retort despite himself. Before the words could leave his mouth, another voice pierced the conversation, "Silence! This is a sensitive operation. No chatter required."

Following the sound of the voice, Renz glanced behind himself. Another gnome, with sharp, angular features and narrow, accusatory eyes was approaching from behind the transport tram.

"Aw, come off it Paskal. You're a private like the rest of us, quit trying to give orders," Gimbly sneered.

Paskal returned the jibe with a withering stare, "Regardless of my station, the lieutenant gave the order for minimal communications. If you're talking, you're in direct defiance of orders. Do you want to be in direct defiance of orders?"

As Gimbly deflated under the verbal assault, Renzlowe cocked a brow and looked at Herb questioningly.

"Paskal's not a very fun guy," Herb deadpanned.

"I'm here to relieve a 'Renzlowe Wrenchcog' from his post," Paskal continued, glancing at Renz, "You're to report to the back of the line and take up a post by the construction."

Renzlowe nodded wordlessly, and shouldered his rifle, glancing quickly at Herb and Gimbly. As Paskal tapped his foot impatiently, Renzlowe took a step forward.

A noise echoed out from the darkness down the tunnel. Renzlowe froze mid-step, straining to hear. The noise sounded again; the clatter of a pebble being shifted. More soldiers took notice, turning to stare down the darkness of the tunnel. Another noise drifted out of the gloom. Simultaneously, a dozen G.I.'s raised their rifles and aimed down the tunnel, filling the air with the sound of rustling body armor. The sounds of construction immediately ceased, tinkers halting their work to look up at the soldiers with wide eyes, full of fear. Renzlowe breathed slowly, his eyes lining with the sights of his rifle. A bead of sweat slowly ambled from his temple to his jaw. Movement flashed in the gloom. A barrage of rifle fire filled the air, tearing into the shadows, muzzle flashes filling the tunnel with a blaze of light. Almost as soon as it had begun, the hail of fire stopped. Heavy, oppressive silence filled the tunnel. When no other movement or sound was heard, Paskal whispered harshly, "Someone investigate."

Cocking his weapon, Gimbly grinned, "Alright, I was waiting for some action," and trudged forward before Renzlowe could open his mouth. He strode forward down the darkened tunnel, rifle held at the ready, vibro-sword at his waist. With each crunching step, he faded further into the blackness. Soon, he was barely visible. Renzlowe gritted his teeth. A short laugh echoed out from the darkness and Gimbly re-emerged holding a bullet-ridden rat by the tail, "Just a rat, you can all calm down."

Renzlowe cursed under his breath and lowered his rifle. It was just a rat. Eyeing Gimbly's smiling face, Renzlowe let out a small sigh. The kid was lucky. With a carefree grin, Gimbly tossed the dead rodent over his shoulder. He laughed again and took a step forward.

His laugh jumped to a gurgling shriek as a gnarled hand exploded from his chest, fragments of bone and gore dripping from its twisted fingers. The snarling face of a trogg loomed out from the darkness behind him, its cavernous unhinged jaw clamping down around his head. For a single, ice-cold second, everything froze, the troops staring horrified at the scene before them. Renzlowe stared, wide-eyed, unable to move, to act, to tear his gaze away from the atrocity. Then the tunnel exploded with the sound of gunfire, bullets tearing into the floor, the walls, the trogg, and what was left of Gimbly. As the last of the shots echoed through the tunnel, Renzlowe looked down at his smoking rifle and realized they were his. Two bullet-riddled corpses fell to the ground with a thud.

Almost immediately, screeches and howls burst out from the darkness, echoing around the tunnel. Soldiers in the back rushed to the front, weapons raised, sights aiming down the darkened corridor. Renzlowe stared into the gloom, straining to see movement, shadows, anything that might give an estimate of how much danger they were about to face. Behind the line, tinkers dropped their tools and bolted for safety, hiding anywhere they could, their panicked screams and sobs rising to mix with the howls and roars already filling the air.

A flash of movement from within the shadows caught Renzlowe's eyes. He had raised his gun and fired before the image even registered. Around him, other troops began firing as well at other points of movement, the screeching and roaring growing ever louder. Almost in unison, dozens of troggs barreled out from the darkness, eyes wide and frenzied, spittle flying from their gaping maws. A hail of bullets tore into them, sending sprays of blood arcing into the air as the beasts collapsed to the floor, twitching violently. The barrage of gunfire continued, but more troggs burst forward, consumed by the single-minded obsession to crush and kill, Slugs tore gaping holes in their abdomens, but they still staggered forward. Limbs were blasted off by the force of the hyperkinetic bullets, but their advance was not slowed.

"Brace for impact!" Renzlowe found himself screaming over the chaos. The troggs were close enough to smell. Around him, soldiers dropped their rifles, drawing vibro-swords and electroshock bucklers. Renzlowe tossed his gun to the side, the electric whir of his vibro-sword rising to join the piercing buzz of the swords around him. He raised his buckler. Half a second later, the horde of troggs smashed into the gnomish line. Grunting with effort, Renzlowe dug his feet into the dirt, sliding backwards as the troggs forced their way forward, clawing hands reaching past the wall of shields, searching for flesh and bone. The sound of bodies clashing, troggs howling and gnomes screaming began to dull in his ears. The world around him faded between two scenes. He was in the tunnel guarding the tinkers. He was on a bridge deploying a bomb. His heartbeat pounded in his ears.

Pain exploded in his shoulder, snapping him back to reality. He glanced over, the gnarled hand that had gashed his arm retreating back behind the shield wall. With a snarl, Renzlowe thrust his vibro-sword after it, feeling the blade sink deep into flesh as a sharp squeal pierced the air. With another yell, he jerked the blade back, screaming to the rest of the troops, "Turn on the juice! Now! Now! Now!" The tunnel exploded with electric blue light. Searing bolts of lightning arced from the electroshock bucklers and into the swarm of troggs, sending the foremost troggs collapsing in charred heaps while the rest convulsed violently backwards.

Breaking formation, the soldiers charged, vibro-swords carving a swath of death into the churning mass of beasts. Renzlowe dashed forward, blocking the overhead smash of the howling trogg before him. Retaliating quickly, he sliced his blade low, severing the brute's hamstrings and sending it toppling to the floor. With a grunt, he leapt onto its collapsed frame, stabbing it through the back before withdrawing his sword and using its convulsing body as a stepping-stone to leap forward once more, cleaving through the skull of another trogg.

A deafening explosion rocked the tunnel, the force knocking Renzlowe off-balance. He squinted and raised his hand against the wave of heat emanating from the raging inferno that had ignited within the horde of troggs. As the fires receded, a rain of torn limbs and shattered bone fell on the troops, covering them with trogg remains. Renzlowe risked a glance behind the line, and saw the civilian tinkers arming mining explosives and hurling them into the fray.

Turning once more to face the battle, Renzlowe was greeted with the sight of a trogg bringing down a bone club, screaming in fury, aiming for his head. Before he could react, a vibro-sword slashed through the air, whirring sharply as it severed the beast's arms, bone club falling harmlessly to the floor. Glancing over, Renzlowe saw Herb finish his swing. He gave a curt nod before spinning around and ducking back into the fray. Grimly, Renzlowe raised his sword and did the same.

Smashing a trogg across the face with his shield, Renzlowe spun around, ducking wild swings and blocking crushing blows. Something warm and wet dripped onto the side of his face. He quickly wiped at it, looking at his hands. Saliva. Jerking his head upwards, Renzlowe saw a dozen troggs clawing their way across the ceiling, scrambling over the line of soldiers towards the civilians. Leaping wildly, several of the beasts cleared the fight, loping directly towards the explosive-tossing tinkers. The gnomes screamed as the troggs smashed into them, dropping the primed charges and turning to run. There was a scuffle. The charges exploded.

The agonized screams of the tinkers were silenced by the deafening blast. The force of the explosion threw Renzlowe back, slamming him into the wall of the tunnel. What was left of the tinkers rained down around him. A mist of blood and gore filled the air. Spots danced before his eyes. His ears rang, drowning out all other noise. He stared blearily as the distraction from behind broke the gnomish line. Troggs dropped from the ceiling onto unsuspecting troops, crushing them underfoot. A trogg grabbed a soldier by the arm, and with a heave of sinew, tore it from his socket. As the soldier dropped to his knees in horrified agony, the beast began beating him with his own limb. A large one tackled Paskal, sending him toppling to the floor. The monster raised its fists and smashed them into his prone form, bashing and crushing. His hands raised in a feeble attempt to ward off the blows. With a soundless howl, the creature caved in his skull.

Turning to his right, the frightened face of a civilian tinker filled Renzlowe's vision. The gnome was screaming something, her eyes wide and frantic. He stared back, hearing only the rush of his own breathing and the ringing in his ears. She slapped him. Blinking, he turned to look once again, her words beginning to assert themselves over the noise in his head; the ringing in his ears giving way.

"I said what the fel do we do now!?" She repeated.

Renzlowe cast his eyes around the repair-site turned battlefield. His gaze rested on the transport tram. "To the tram!" he screamed, staggering to his feet, ignoring the sharp pain in the back of his head, "Everyone get inside the tram!"

Soldiers and civilians alike sprinted for the tram, the troggs only steps behind them. Renzlowe staggered forward as fast as he could, the tinker doing her best to help him along. Stooping low, he scooped up a discarded rifle as he ran, slamming a spare clip into the ammo cartridge and hurrying for the tram. Within seconds they reached the threshold, Renzlowe scrambling inside, then turning around to help in the other gnome. He reached out, grabbing her firmly by the hand. A trogg loomed up from behind her. Renzlowe's eyes widened as he immediately felt the freakishly strong pull of the beast, hauling on the other gnome, trying to pull her from the tram. He pulled back for all he was worth, the pitiful screams of the tinker filling his head. Bracing himself against the doorframe, Renzlowe grabbed the rifle and aimed down the trogg's gaping mouth. He fired point-blank, blasting open the monster's head. As it fell to the ground with a thud, he hauled the gnome into the tram and slammed a fist onto the door control panel, sliding the steel-plated doors shut.

Breathing deeply, Renzlowe glanced around the inside of the tram. A half-dozen haggard soldiers and tinkers were scattered about, wincing as troggs smashed and pounded against the tram walls. A low clattering caught his attention. Looking down, he saw the gun in his hand was shaking. His hand was shaking. Renzlowe dropped the rifle. His hand continued to shake. Swallowing, he raised his head once again, "Alright, anyone of you know how to run a tram?"

The tinker at his side cleared her throat, "I-I can. Two weeks in i-introductory tram p-piloting, sir."

Renzlowe nodded and hurried her to the control room, the sound of howling and pounding against the tram growing louder and louder. "Okay, kid, what's your name?"

She trembled, eyeing the controls nervously, "Linzie, sir."

"Linzie, 'ey? My name's Renzlowe, you can call me Renz, alright?"

She nodded mutely.

"Okay, good. Now look, what I need you to do is get this tin can movin' outta here. Can you do that?"

Linzie nodded again, placing trembling hands on the controls and spinning a dial. The tram engines began to hum. As if sensing their prey was escaping, the troggs smashed harder and faster on the tram, the sound of their blows rising to a frenzied pitch. Screams and gunfire echoed back from the main car as troggs punched holes in the tram walls, reaching gnarled hands in to grab at the gnomes inside. The soldiers drew their blades, stabbing through the holes and hacking at the arms that reached through them. Cursing vehemently, Renzlowe turned back Linzie, who worked frantically at the controls.

Suddenly, the pounding outside the control room was replaced with a loud crash. The snarling face of a trogg leered through the opening. With a shout, Renzlowe raised his gun, but the beast was already leaping through the hole. It soared over Linzie and crashed into his chest, the rifle scattering off to the side. Inches away from his face, the creature roared, its mouth open impossibly wide, spittle flying against his face, its roar deafening in his ears. Dimly he heard Linzie screaming. He pushed against the trogg with all his might, straining as the crooked-toothed jaw sank ever closer to his head. Suddenly, the sound of metal thunking against flesh echoed through the control room, and the trogg rolled off of him, howling in pain. Looking up, he saw Linzie brandishing a fire extinguisher.

Glancing back at the trogg, Renzlowe saw it fix its gaze on the new prey. He scrambled to his feet. The trogg leapt at Linzie. He leapt at the trogg. The two collided in mid-air, crashing into another control panel.

"Floor it!" Renzlowe screamed over his shoulder as the beast thrashed against him. Dropping the fire extinguisher, Linzie turned to the controls once more. With a heave, she pushed a lever as far forward as possible. With a jerk, the tram lurched forward, sending Renzlowe and the trogg toppling to the ground once more. The two rolled, locked in combat, bashing, kicking, head-butting. The trogg rolled to the top, raising a fist to bring down on his skull. Renzlowe gathered his legs underneath the beast. With a howl, the monster brought down its fist. With roar of defiance, Renzlowe kicked out; launching the screaming abomination out of the hole it had burst through. The trogg fell screaming in front of the tram, bursting like a wet balloon as the wheels smashed its body.

The car jerked and rumbled as it gathered speed, troggs falling off the rapidly accelerating vehicle. Some landed under its wheels, limbs crushed and severed. Others fell upon the third rail, their bodies convulsing horribly as electric current blasted through them. As the tram sped off down the tunnel, their horrific screams and howls receded into the darkness. Soon the rumbling

As the screams and howls of the troggs faded away into the receding darkness, Renzlowe let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. The car rumbled and jerked under his feet. Linzie stood at the controls; her eyes locked ahead, knuckles white as she gripped the lever. Hesitantly, he patted her on the shoulder. She didn't move. Turning around, he stepped into the other car. Civilians and soldiers alike sat or stood, staring at nothing. Someone let out a choked sob. One gnome looked up and met his gaze. There was a scar on his forehead. Herb. The two locked eyes; empty gazes meeting in midair. Wordless understanding was found in each haggard stare. The car rumbled around them as the tram sped down the tunnel.


End file.
